Reflections
by Gray Voice
Summary: Even if it was with the friend that only she could see, Miku never wanted to make the move to that new town. Now she can't find a way to fit in, let alone fight any of the changes. But to return to herself, she must instead look to another. Yuri, Miku/Luka, Negitoro.
1. Part I

There were the trees, leaping by one after another, painted up in the colors of a dull fire spreading across the landscape. Miku saw the hues and thought of flames, but only briefly. She spent more time thinking about the ashes they'd leave and how they'd scatter in the coming wind.

Such a grim thought, once she found herself considering it. Not the destruction but the aftermath, the nothingness left over once everything had been erased. It was so strange to be thinking of seeing all of that nature cleared away and gone. Yet not something she stopped herself from thinking of. Maybe if the trees were familiar it would have, but these were new, if only because of the roads, the landscapes around them.

_You don't have to come along, you know._

She leaned back into car's seat, still fixed on the blurred colors going by.

_Where else would I go, Miku? Do you think I'd be better off wandering in the woods the rest of my life?_

The colors wouldn't last long, she knew, but it didn't make them more memorable, have any more impact. Their fading hues were just as dull and lonely as she expected them to be, just as lifeless as the grays of concrete and asphalt and steel that would soon approach.

_At least you get that choice. _

In the seat next to her, Luka was still dozing quietly. Most of the luggage had fit in the trunk, and yet there she was, crammed up against a single pink duffel bag. Her hair was cascaded over the neon fabric like water trailing downhill, a soft coral against the bright electric color.

She was breathing softly, undisturbed by the occasional bumps they took along the road, embracing the bag like some oversized pillow. Miku still wished she could have given her an actual cushion, could have somehow made this trip comfortable for her. Even though she was such a vital part of the home they were leaving behind, of childhood, having her along was troublesome in its own way. Another mention of "imaginary friends" and mom might actually have done something drastic.

_It's a choice I already made. You're the one who really_ _decides it, Miku. You're the one who can say where I actually go._

A stir from her after a bigger bump, but then the still sleep again. A stillness that left Miku somehow at ease. It was a fixed, solid point of soothing light in a tight room full of blurred colors and fading lines.

_No. You know I'll need you there. You know it better than me._

That was probably why the sleeping nymph was so impossible to leave behind, Miku figured, why she had to be smuggled along somewhere in the tiny car. Running around without her would be like going without her own shadow, all at once empty and frightening. Like it would be harder to prove she existed in the mess of concrete and asphalt and steel they'd be getting to so soon, even though at times it felt so impossible to prove even to herself that Luka was real, wasn't some hallucination she'd conjured up and called a friend.

She found herself straining her neck around to keep the last flame-colored tree in sight as it zoomed into the distance. No, she realized, she _could_ prove Luka was real. Her own hallucinations would never be so kind, so gentle.

And there was the first skyscraper starting to form, rising up against a sheet of pale clouds. Neighbors all around it, too, though none quite so tall.

"Look, you can start to see them now! Isn't it exciting, Miku?"

Late reaction. Typical of mother.

"They're not any better from out the window, mom."

"Really? _I _certainly think they are. None of the photos captured any of them very well, I can see now. They're so much _bigger _in person, aren't they? Just _marvelous_!"

"I dunno. They're just buildings."

The driver gave her loud, heavy sigh. Also typical of her.

"Look, Miku, I _know_ you're still glum, but you really ought to try seeing the _good_ in this. Haven't you ever thought how much _fun _a city could be? And all the new friends you'll make, too! This high school will have so many more people than your old one, and there's going to be so much more to do in the town, too. Don't you think all that will help? You just have to think of them all as opportunities, sweetie."

So Miku thought about the few people zooming behind and away like the trees, and she found herself thinking of the one. And then of the other. Both just as faded as the hues of the leaves, photographs losing color in her head and nothing more.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Trust me, you'll start having fun once you get there. I'm sure this is going to be just what you need. We can find new things here and finally stop lingering over everything that's past."

And it made sense to Miku, because really she didn't see any sense in mourning any more over dad since so much mourning had been done already. Only, he _had_ to be left behind. Rin didn't. Rin was still there, still alive, but really she was just as dead now for all the distance between her and Miku.

"Don't you think, sweetie? I _promise_, you'll see this was the right choice."

"So we'd have gone even without the transfer?"

A stir. Miku could picture the face she was making now, decided to cover it up with the distant peace she found in Luka's sleeping form.

"That's not the point I'm trying to make. All I'm trying to do is look on the _bright _side of things. It's not as if either of us planned for any of this, but sometimes life just takes you places, and you have to make the best of it. This way, at least I can start making enough for both of us. Okay?"

Both. Miku felt herself grimace, was somehow thankful the girl next to her wasn't awake. Even though she'd never say she was offended by that sort of thing.

"And you still remember that I'll probably have to take some later nights at the office from now on, right?"

She was still fixed on Luka some. There wasn't much out the windows by now, she could tell.

"Yes. I remember."

"I know that might be a little tough at first, but once you make some friends it won't be a problem at all. You won't have to worry about spending all afternoon in the apartment by yourself, all right?"

"I know. I'm not worried."

"Good. You can meet a lot of people if you try, you know. I know how close you were with that Rin girl, but you can make friends just as close here, too. All you have to do is reach out a bit more, okay? Like we talked about."

More bumps. Still the nymph lay there unmoving. Miku half considered lashing out at that remark but then thought it probably wasn't worth the effort. It was fixed, they were going, and nothing could change how her whole life would change. And she was too tired to be angry anyway. The kind of tired you didn't seem to recover from, no matter how much you slept.

In a way, that was something to envy Luka for. Like so many other things she could envy Luka for.

Miku sighed and settled into her seat more, let her head fall to the side and stared out at the dull procession of buildings now marching past. Like so many other things, none of the envy was really worth lingering on.

So instead she kept thinking it all over, the ashes and the fading photos in her head that would join them, and decided not to answer at all. In the seat next to her, Luka slept soundly and still, eyes running motions over some unreachable dream.

* * *

"It's smaller than what you had before, isn't it?" Luka asked, tracing a hand along the wall at the far end of the room, right above the bed. Her voice had a familiar tone of sympathy in it, not unappreciated, but maybe misdirected in this case.

Miku shrugged. "I guess. It's still big enough for you to sleep here, if you want."

"That might be best. The only trees around here are the ones lining the streets."

"Those are no good?" Miku asked, confused. "Like, you can't... 'go in' those?"

"'Go in'?" Luka repeated, her stare blank.

"You know, that thing you do. Where you become 'part of' the tree, or something. That's how those other spirits kept themselves hidden all the time, right?"

"It's not that I _can't_—it's more that they're too open," Luka explained. "There's no privacy. I don't think I could rest easily in one of those."

Miku frowned, nodding. Somehow, she understood that better than she expected.

"I really am sorry about this, you know," she said, after a moment. "Mom keeps telling me to look on the bright side of it all, but, for you..."

"For me it's just a place," Luka said. "It's not a big deal. It's not like what you're going through."

"I don't think it's that simple," Miku said, shaking her head. "I mean, even if you can still have a place to sleep, it's not like before. At least before you had nature, your home and everything. Here..."

Luka traced her hand along the wall more, gazed out the window at the setting sun and the fading colors it cast over the skyline. "Here I still have you. That's more than enough for me."

It touched her, still, hearing that, if only on the surface. Miku smiled, tried to offer something in return.

"I'm glad. I wondered, you know, about that. If I was actually just burdening you with all this, with taking you along. I know I can't try looking at this from where you are, but it still seems like I'm just pulling you places you never really wanted to go."

The nymph hadn't stopped looking out the window. In her eyes all Miku could see was a kind of trepidation—not so much Luka's as her own.

"That was a choice I made long ago," Luka finally said. "There's no use in regretting the aftermath."

"I guess," Miku said, her tone noncommital. "I still can't help regretting...well, all _this_, though."

Luka's hand was still fixed on the wall, her eyes still out the window. "It's that bad being without her?"

"It's more than that. I wanted to say something, tell her everything, and then dad..." Miku cut herself off, her breath suddenly becoming short. "I don't know. It's like, I don't _need_ to miss her, maybe even I shouldn't, but, I do. Even already."

The deep, sea-colored eyes finally turned back to her, full of a soft, sympathetic regret. "I understand."

Miku sighed, somehow relieved. "I really ought to look forward, Luka. I don't want what's beyond help to keep running up to grab me, but somehow I'm not sure I can."

"Maybe things will work out better than you think tomorrow," Luka offered.

"Maybe," Miku said. But she knew how unsure of the words she felt even as she said them. How she could feel the eyes on her already and the shyness, the fear welling up deep in her. Not the kind tinged with hope from the looks she knew Rin would give her but something more primal, something harder to swallow.

She shook her head. "I really wish it didn't happen in the first place. I wish I could just... _change_ things."

Luka smiled, soft and warm, closer now. "If only."

* * *

She knew the motions before they were announced, before they were handed to her by the scene that formed around her, not by experience but by instruction. Mother going on and on about how important that first entrance would be, how it would set up impressions to come and wouldn't it be nice if you came off as the same cute charming girl everyone knew you were back at your old school, how many friends you're sure to make and maybe even a few boys will like you.

And Miku played the motions out just like she'd been told to. Listen for the call, the moniker. We have a new transfer student, please come in, treat her kindly, introduce yourself. From there it was just saying the syllables of the name, writing it out, giving the where and why for the transfer as vaguely as possible because nobody needs to know you're the brooding girl with the dead father.

Then the bowing, the seating. All throughout the eyes fixed on her, tracing over the surface and the surface alone because that's what's cute, what's safe.

Everybody always wanted what's safe.

Somewhere during homeroom the others did start talking to her, throwing out questions here and there. "Are you used to the town yet?" "What was it like in the country, though?" "You seem a whole lot more refined than someone from those parts."

Miku answered what she could, smiled throughout. There was a "forward" to be looking towards, she reminded herself, and she was keeping herself focused on that. Rin was new once, too. The key was just to make that first leap across the gap.

So she watched the gap as its size fluctuated with each question, each attempt at response. The even greater widening as the questioners themselves turned back to their familiar circles, after they had their fill of the novelty who'd walked in. She wondered at how to jump it now, with the interest gone and the lure of surprise evaporated with her suddenly becoming out of season.

She wondered too where to go once the free time came again, tried to remember who showed the most interest, the most felicity before. All around her were nations already well established, their borders tightly kept with cheery inner chatter. Cheerful noise that flooded the room for all to hear but was somehow spoken in a language she didn't understand, had to be initiated to understand. She scanned and scanned for a group with a break in their lines, someplace that could tolerate the strange and novel one intruding.

Every time she did her scanning, the noise and clusters around her left Miku paralyzed, numb. She ate and took her breaks that day as an island instead of a nation, but that was all right. Over and over she reminded herself it was just the first day, just the point where she was trying to get used to the waters. This was a process she was entering into. Something that gets easier over time.

She found herself slumped over her desk over and over, thinking of Rin, how things started with her. It was hard to remember the first meeting, the process of warming up. Rin was something divine, eternal. An eternity suddenly shattered and replaced with banality and a buzzing shower of noise.

That day she went home alone, hurrying her way along. Not so much because it bothered her to be performing that walk by herself but because it seemed as if the wall of noise of before had followed her into the streets, was still after her as it flooded out from every shop and arcade and street corner.

* * *

There was water, and trees shimmering and shaking like the water too. It was further out than Miku had been before. Mommy wasn't there and daddy wasn't there, just like when the door gets closed and there's supposed to be sleep only here was light and not dark and big and free instead of the soft and tight. It was even farther out than the teacher had ever taken her and the rest of the class for nature walks, even though she was in first grade already and it would've been fine to go this far.

The water was flowing like the green and like the trees too. But Miku didn't like the flowing. Being still was better because still means quiet and peaceful and if you looked carefully in the still there would be a little girl who would greet you. Daddy told her that story every night and he had shown her it was true, too, only that was water mommy was going to use which was different from outside water but still water if you thought about it scientifically.

Miku was still searching for that still water. The trees were making everything go darkish like being alone in your room and the green wasn't there anymore but like a blacker kind of green instead, although daddy said once that the pillow was still white even when the light wasn't on so maybe this was the same. Miku bumped on rocks and there was sticky everywhere but it wasn't hard to figure out where the not sticky parts were. Other kids liked to be sticky but Miku didn't because it always made her dress go heavy and then mommy would make her face like she had lost something.

Past more rocks there was a small lawn and a part where the trees weren't making everything dark. Up in the trees there were lights like little stars dancing and flying. Miku looked over and she found the water, and there was a part that was flowing out from it but it was mostly still like how she wanted. The still part was big and shiny, like a big mirror when you shined a flashlight at it, because when water's big and still it's like a big mirror and throws light back at you but doesn't catch it all, daddy said. It's like a big rubber ball that bounces what you see and what everyone else sees back at you, so what's in there is really also what's out here too.

Miku went close to the water and looked more. There was the girl looking back at her. She was grinning and her hair was done in pretty ribbons just the same kind Miku's hair was done in. Around the girl there were also trees shimmering and shaking like the water outside the still, and past the girl there was a sky blue and clear like water. Only Miku wasn't sure if it was the sky that was the blue or the water or if the grinning girl in the still had made Miku start grinning or if it was the other way around.

And around the girl in the water there were the same lights she saw before that were dancing in the trees but weren't anywhere to be found on Miku's side of the water. They were colored bright like magic lights in the sky and made the picture in the water look like a dream in a far-off land.

Miku wanted to meet the girl in the pool. She wanted to play with her and laugh with her instead of with the other kids, because this was the first girl Miku found who she felt safe to keep smiling at.

So Miku went in closer and stuck a hand out, and the girl in the still stuck hers out to meet her.

When their hands met the water went shimmery, all flowing like the water leading up to it, and the girl turned all bent and strange until Miku couldn't see her anymore.

And Miku didn't like that. Even when the water went still again and the girl came back, she didn't like it.

Because if she was a friend, then the girl in the water wasn't supposed to go away.

* * *

"I just wonder if I'm doing something _wrong_," Miku sighed, slouching further into her seat on the bed. "I mean, I feel like I fit in well enough back home. I don't get why I can't seem to make that happen again _here_."

"They're probably unsure about you still," Luka offered. She was seated in the armchair Miku had managed to convince her mother to place in the room. Something of a usual spot of Luka's by now. "Or maybe it's just that the right people haven't come by yet."

The sun wasn't quite setting yet, was right now only casting longer shadows from the nearby buildings onto the concrete and asphalt. Mother hadn't been home yet, had left money for some takeout from somewhere on the counter. Miku shook her head as she pulled her gaze from the window.

"I don't know," she said. "I just feel so unsure about it all. It's still so...unfamiliar."

"And that's why it's so hard, isn't it?"

"Maybe. It's hard to say. If the people here were like everyone back home, I wouldn't need to think about changing anything in the first place."

Luka looked out the window now, gazing over the shadows herself. "Because it'd be easier if you could find another one like her."

Something about the words felt heavy, difficult to take in. _Like_ her. Miku wondered if there would be anyone "like" Rin around. Or if "like" would ever measure up to the thing it resembled.

"It probably would be," Miku conceded. Something in Luka's tone made it sound like she wanted the reassurance.

Miku looked out the window again, in the silence. The walls were too blank to focus on, and she didn't dare burden the nymph with her gaze on top of all these pointless troubles. It was hard to find anything to try taking in, despite how high up the apartment was. It was all the same streak of stones and grays. So little out there that was alive, that was growing.

"I just don't see what she was thinking," Miku finally said. "It's a change of environment, but it's not any better than what was at home. If it's going to make me stop thinking about dad, it'd only be because of how _dull _it all is."

"She was probably just too optimistic about how it'd be for you," Luka said, perking up in her seat some. "Your mother's always been like that."

"I guess she has," Miku giggled. "I mean, she _did _never really worry about me going out in the woods, did she?"

"You never went alone, though," Luka pointed out.

"I did at first," Miku said. "And then, even with you, she still thought..." She trailed off, stopping herself. Felt herself sink as she looked back into the still innocent, sea-colored eyes. "Sorry. I...I didn't mean to let that out."

"It's all right," Luka said. She wasn't looking up. "You were just remembering it all. So that probably would include her thinking it was with imaginary friends."

The shadows caught Miku's eye again. "Yeah. I guess it would." She forced herself back after a moment, made sure to show herself smiling. "But, that doesn't change how you really _were_ always there. Or how you're still here now."

Luka looked happier at that. "Yes. And, you know I _want _to be."

"You deserve better, though," Miku sighed. "Really, we both do. This isn't the place for either of us. I kept feeling that all day today."

"_All _of today?" Luka asked. Worried, somehow.

Miku shrugged. "More or less, yeah. I don't know. None of it felt right. I knew it wouldn't be familiar, but it was all _too _unfamiliar. And it followed me around everywhere today."

"But today was just one day."

"Yeah," Miku admitted, slouching against the wall even further. "I guess you're right. It's silly to give up after just one day, isn't it? To say one day means everything's lost, I mean."

And Luka gave a long, slow nod. "Right. Just one day."

* * *

The buildings were just as gray up close. She could see more details in the stone and concrete and find more hues in the gray, but it was still just gray that was towering over Miku on every stretch of street.

Noise followed everywhere she went. It was always following, trailing in some new form taken from arcades or shops or the new organ that the great crush of people had morphed into along whatever avenue she'd reached. Every so often signs, too, buzzing like a hive of insects squeezed into the stretched-out glowing tubes or backlit panels, bright even this early into the afternoon.

What colors there were didn't so much liven up the grays as they burned into Miku's head, slammed past her eyes as a force demanding to be noticed. That was most everything around her wanted: to be noticed. It was a thirst cried out by every block of space squeezed into the land around her and by every faceless ghost that walked past, no matter if the jacket on them was dull or flashy or unrecognizable. And it was always just the being noticed that any of it cried out, warning inside that plea that anything past that momentary pass of the eyes was too much. Warning that coming too close was too dangerous.

And Miku didn't mind the warnings much, because she agreed. It was too much to even try taking the surface of it all in.

She turned another corner, came near another crosswalk as she was pushed along in the waves of the crowds. Around her were apartment buildings, practically indistinguishable from her own. She wondered how far from home she was. Either home. The crowds around her were practically silent, yet the noise still followed, still traced her every step as it took new life from the neon breeding grounds that surrounded so tall at every turn.

The crowd dumped Miku at an arcade not far from there, desperate to be rid of her just as much as she was to be rid of it. All around sounded beeps and blips of trial and error, victory and defeat in some discordant symphony of electric tribulation. A group of boys not far from the entrance caught her eye with a collective turn of their heads. Not many of them, maybe three, but all wearing a familiar uniform.

Her school's uniform, she realized.

One grinned at her. Grinned too widely. It was a lusty look, one glossing over her surface with a casual lasciviousness. He said something, a few simple syllables, but Miku let the sounds become swallowed up in the buzzing and beeping that enveloped the place.

She turned and rejoined the crowds, was swept along further by them as she let the shame and horror be washed away in the enforced anonymity that surrounded her.

And when she saw a group of girls in her own uniform later on, she did her best to stay out of their sight. She wasn't like the crowds, the signs. Just being seen felt too vulnerable. She didn't want to give them an opening.

On her way back, the noise still followed, trailing and swarming her. The buzzing signs all looked like they were written in a language she'd never spoken before.

* * *

Miku came back to the pool again, but this time she didn't try touching the girl there.

It was a little sad, but it was okay. Mommy had told her that sometimes people don't like being touched and holding back was a good sign of character, so maybe it would be easier like this.

She stared at the girl instead and tried talking to her too, even though she knew she wouldn't say anything back. Talking to her was fun in some weird way. It was like there was a person around who would listen to everything she wanted to say and would smile or laugh or frown whenever Miku felt that way herself, and she would never tell her anything that she wouldn't want to hear back, either.

But just looking would get boring after a while. So Miku would play in the woods too. She would run in the grass or climb the barky bottom parts on the ground, and made sure to keep away from the sticky and wet because even if it didn't make her dress heavy it would be hard for mommy to get it off her shoes if she stepped in it. To make up for it, she pretended that the sticky was quicksand and if she fell in it she'd get stuck there and drown.

Sometimes the lights would come out from the trees while she was playing. They were scary at first, but they never came too near Miku or else tried hiding back in the trees once she looked at them so she knew they probably weren't so scary after all. They never talked to her, either, even when she called at them. Daddy told her they were forest spirits, which could be just like fairies if she wanted them to be because coming up with things like that was good for her and a sign of a healthy mind.

Miku wished they would be less shy and willing to play, though, because sometimes just playing alone was boring and the girl in the pool wasn't all that great company, even if she felt nice to talk to.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to see herself the way the girl in the pool saw her. She wondered if it was any different from how she saw the girl or the water around her. Because everyone sees things different, daddy had told her. Everyone catches the light around them in their own way because who they are makes it bounce off their own feelings and memories in their own special pattern. Like a lot of little mirrors that make a great big maze of light.

And the special lights the fairies made sometimes floated around the girl in the pool, too, just like all the lights of the things that Miku remembered and the things she felt. It was very happy. It was like being with the best group of friends in the whole world, like what the other kids at school or on TV or in books probably felt when they were with their friends.

Only Miku still made sure never to reach too far at the girl in the pool. Because she still remembered if she reached too far she'd go all fuzzy and fade away, and take all the lights with her.

* * *

She could feel when their eyes were on her, even if they pretended not to be looking.

They would always pretend not to be. Miku supposed it was in part because they wouldn't talk to her, but that part she couldn't figure out. She barely thought about it in the first place, barely gave time to consider it.

And she could always find the hints of the snickering in their eyes, the suspicion. Their glancing over her surface with envy or distaste or appraisal. The warm body to enter or the stuck-up to diminish. Always to be hammered down.

All she did was sit in the classroom and try taking notes, but even with the teacher filling the space it was like the air was weighing down on her. Minutes stretched themselves out as far as they could reach and helped to tangle her in a net of lead, stitched together by every feared mention of the two syllables of her name.

How like so many other words, other syllables those sounded. How often she remembered and felt used to hearing them whispered in hushed, mocking tones.

Unapproachable, too-good-for-anyone girl who stinks with grief.

The desks were in such a simple pattern, Miku found herself thinking, mind-bogglingly simple. Their geometric gridlock, arranged like the tables of a graph or the structure of the buildings across the newer sections of the city. Horizontal and vertical, rows and columns. Neat, clean, precise. Only ever broken up once the teacher left, once the numbered points got up, turned to the chosen neighbors and formed their preferred borders. Miku wondered if she should care, find herself hurt by something deeper than the noise fluttering around her like wasps hissing out discordant music, the elbows of bodies with unknown names so casually leaning on her desk as she stared out the window and desperately hoped they'd all be summoned back to their original stations soon.

She wondered again and again what the weight she felt around her was, where it came from. Wondered if it manifested from the faceless bodies around her or from some hex Luka's kind had thrown on her in days floating around in undusted corners somewhere.

"Kind of stand-offish, I think." "What is she, afraid of us?" "It's like she thinks she's better, even though she came from out in the sticks somewhere." "She just always looks so gloomy." "Doesn't seem like much fun, does she? So stuck-up and all."

And the other quiet ones were quiet because they were listening, because they were already connected to somewhere. Someplace where it would all lead back to the name, the syllables overheard from when the structure of the place broke and reformed into nations more tightly made than the lines the grid had managed to construct.

It was hard to see a way to make new borders for herself. She already had them, already knew where they lay.

But it was never so much the size of those borders that Miku began to notice as the way they compared to what she saw around her. How much wider they all were. How much more impenetrable.

She would find herself drawn back to the window, once she would notice that. The grass and trees and wilting flowers lining the school gates, the border between the white stoned school and the gray stoned city. Over the image of the trees and hints of the skyline was a faint ghost of the image behind her, the others in their own collectives. Her own desk would show up, more indistinct. She could never seem to make out herself in the translucent scene.

So the chair and the landscapes all had a kind of emptiness to them. A hollowness.

At the last bell they all hurriedly filed out, Miku swept up in the wake. Near her locker, a chatting group saw her come, saw her hurry. Their eyes again, appraising. Her own arms dropping over her bare legs as she put her street shoes back on, futilely covering skin with mundane skin.

They asked her something, out of too-wide grins and hungry eyes. Something about food, dinner, right then. She felt herself hurrying more. Thought about the intentions and lost the veil, the sociability over their lustful stares in the building fear.

They kept calling, taunting as she quietly passed out the doors. Out one border and into another. More looks as she came up to the gate and passed it, only then realized she was running the whole way.

Miku remembered the woods as she slowed down, the trees towering over her like the buildings around her now. How she'd found the nest of browned paper in the hollow of a trunk and all the buzzing that'd come after her when she got too close. She'd gotten away then, had managed to leave unscathed.

She would always be able to get away, Miku knew. She was good at it.

And the crush of the crowds swept her along again, and silently swept her towards her own gray and indistinct concrete tree of a home, the alien buzzing still trailing her all of the way from every corner and every height.

* * *

A/N: First and foremost, I want to give my utmost thanks to Genki Collective for her tireless and wonderfully perceptive beta work on this story, especially considering I brought it up in the midst of her many other projects.

This story itself is thoroughly based in Ovid's take on the myth of Narcissus and Echo. Even if you're not inclined to look for the parallels between the two, I'd still recommend that original text, as it's truly a beautiful poem. There will be two chapters following this one, to be posted over the course of this coming week.


	2. Part II

Dark was just starting to settle in when Rin and Miku got back. They'd planned it that way, the time and the place. It was the only thing that seemed natural.

It was hard to say anything, even when they were right up to Miku's front door. Rin managed to break the silence, in the end.

"I'm really glad we got today in, you know," she said.

"Yeah," Miku said. "Me too."

"Now at least you can leave without really regretting anything, right?" Rin smiled. That smile of hers like light settling over water and bouncing back up even brighter.

Miku nodded, slowly. "Unless, you know, I forget something later." She made sure to smile herself, after that.

"It's not like we're _completely_ saying goodbye. We can still call each other and text and stuff."

"Yeah," Miku conceded. "We still can."

"I know it's not as good, but it can't really be helped, y'know? Since it's what your mom decided and everything." Rin sighed, looked off. "I really wish it didn't have to be like this either, but we really just gotta make the best of it by now. Isn't that what your dad would want?"

"He can't want _anything _anymore," Miku murmured. "It doesn't matter thinking about it."

She didn't say anything after that. The silence immediately made Miku regret saying that. It wasn't Rin's fault that any of this was happening, only now she couldn't figure out a proper way to say she was sorry. And more than that, there was so much weight to the silence, the finality that lingered throughout it with jaws at the ready.

"I'm...really glad you could do so much today, on such short notice and all," Miku said. It seemed like something touching enough to say. But not _too _touching, not _too _involved.

"It was nothing," Rin replied. Smiling again. "Like, c'mon, you know I _wanted _to, right? This all meant a lot to me, too."

"Right," Miku said. Laughing off the awkwardness, the discrepancy she felt inside.

"And now I'm just stuck thinking about how much more we could've done, y'know?" Rin chuckled. "Weird, huh? Ten years, and only _now _I start thinking about what else could've happened. You know, what else could've filled the space."

"Right." Laughing off more of it.

"If only we could talk to ourselves a couple years, even a couple _months_ ago. We probably could've made better use of all those afternoons of just the two of us goofing off, huh?"

And the dipping suns flowing back, with just Rin next to her, and the not-doing so much more important than any doing because they were hours and hours of just Rin and not some veil of "doing" to wrap her up in. How much softer, how much more beautiful she was uncovered.

"I don't think that's what I'd wish for," Miku murmured, let slip out.

Rin's smile growing sadder, more sympathetic. "Sorry. You're right, it'd be better if we didn't think about changing any of those things. It'd be better if we didn't have regrets, I think."

Swallowing. Deep, sinking in her core, the funny feeling crying out in pain. "Yeah. That'd be best."

And then the quiet again, only the insects chirping off in the distant forest so nearby, and the words that so firmly matched her true feelings screaming in fury at being so suddenly denied their chance at release after so much deliberation. How staying quiet would be betraying her own feelings, but that was better than letting Rin know the need she saw in herself, now that it was far too late for both of them.

There was the smile again. Sadder. So much sadder. Miku felt her come near, was almost shocked by the arms wrapping tightly around her.

"I'll miss you, Miku." Her sweet, delicate voice, quivering. "Really. I'll miss you a lot."

Her own eyes blurring, stinging, her own voice horrifying her with how slow and painfully it came. "I'll miss you, too, Rin." And her own arms coming up to cling to the other girl, clinging tighter as the tears came and the warmth running down her cheeks over and over.

Until the warmth stopped coming and she saw her sweet, smiling, tear-streaked face again. And they said another set of goodbyes, and she disappeared down past the road.

Miku felt herself sigh as she watched her go, as she felt another presence around her.

"I didn't mean to keep you waiting, you know," she said, to nowhere in particular.

"That's not it." Luka visible now, crouched away from her somewhere in the nearby bushes. "I thought...that it'd be easier if I were here."

"Easier?"

She was still facing away. "Because you'd know you aren't going through any of this alone."

Miku shook her head. "I don't know if there's any real way to make any of this easier."

"But you didn't tell her."

She felt herself sinking more, caving inward at that. "Yeah. I guess that helped."

"I wish...it wasn't like this," Luka said. "I'm sorry." She stood, finally turned towards her. Her arms crossed under her chest, her eyes redder, slightly puffed out. "But, please...You should still know that I'm here for you."

A kind of fear swelled up in her at the sight. She didn't know why, couldn't place where it came from.

"Even once I'm gone?" she asked, the words coming out slow.

A hesitation in Luka, visible even in the dim light from the house and the stars. "Even then," she said, finally. "Because...I'm coming with you, Miku."

The words came so unexpected, and Miku couldn't figure out why she hadn't seen them coming. And something about that chilled her, that she was that distant from Luka, that apart from everyone all of a sudden. It was all mounting, all the dear ones leaving, and it felt like another betrayal to let Luka be the exception, because in the end Miku couldn't see herself as anything but a kind of weight on her and everyone she touched.

And maybe that was why they all were finding ways to depart. Maybe she never deserved any of them in the first place.

So the words that came to her came out of her deepest, darkest frustrations:

"You don't have to come, you know."

* * *

A breeze shoved around the dull, flame-colored leaves above them, made Luka's coral hair shift around in silence.

"It's still kind of nice, isn't it?" she asked as she stared up at the trees, the branches hanging around and overhead. "They're still changing colors. Not quite at the point where everything falls off."

She didn't look comfortable on the bench, despite her cheery tone. Miku wondered why she'd so quickly plopped down there instead of on the grass nearby, why she was so intent on sitting stiffly next to her on the tight metal seat.

"There's so few, though," Miku said. The place seemed so sparse, so much more fields than trees, even if it was quiet enough, green enough for the time of year.

"They're a pretty few, though," Luka mused. "I like them."

Her genuine tone brought a smile to Miku's face. "Well, that's good. I mean, I did really hope you would. I made sure to make this the first visit for both of us."

Luka looked touched at that. More than Miku had even managed to hope she would. "The both of us," she murmured, looking off at the trees. "Thank you. That really means a lot."

Something in the way she said it left Miku unnerved. Like she'd dove too deep in a pool and only now realized she'd need to come up for air.

"I feel kinda dumb, not thinking of this sooner, though," Miku said, shifting the subject. "I mean, it's just a park. Pretty much every city has one of these."

"They're common?" Luka asked. "Then, people want them?"

"I guess it's a break for most people. Like, you can only go so long being around just concrete and neon, even if that's what you're used to. And then you just want to take a minute to be in nature."

"But you'd take longer."

Miku slouched back, smiling, somehow, at how easily she'd been seen through. "It's not much of a forest, but it's better than nothing. I do like it."

"I like it, too," Luka answered, softly.

There were a few passersby on the walk in front of them coming and going. Some would glance over as they passed by, and Miku wasn't sure if their blank expressions were genuine or hiding back some sort of confusion. She found herself wondering if anyone had noticed her talking, had stared perplexed at the girl chatting with thin air out in the open. The weather suddenly felt a little too cold, her jacket a little too light.

"Kind of chilly, isn't it?" Miku said. More to break that silence than anything else.

"A little," Luka agreed. "Things do seem kind of cold around here."

"It's just the time of year, that's all."

"That's all?"

"Isn't it?" Miku said. She found herself wondering if she was missing something. "I mean, it's just the weather. We just came here at a lousy time of year. But it'll get better."

"Just because the seasons will change?" Luka asked. There was something in the question, in her eyes that shivered, that showed a spark of trepidation.

The trees caught Miku's eye again, fading leaves against a sky gray as the buildings that lined it. "Things can still work out. It's just a matter of time, I guess. I mean, you can't rush any of it."

"You never _did _rush any of it," Luka said. Softly again. More sadly.

A mother holding a child by the hand walked by. The kid sounded excited, too excited to notice the bench or to let his mother take her attention off him. And then a few students not too far behind them, oddly quiet. Miku could reach out and stop them right where they were, she thought, if she wanted to. Could say something or step out into the path, get their attention. It felt like that right had been wasted on her, suddenly. To be able to be noticed but to never truly take advantage of it.

She felt like apologizing, but couldn't bring herself too. She wasn't entirely sure what it would be for.

"Who knew this city had such a pretty side to it, though," she said instead.

Luka sighed, still smiled all the same. "Yes. Such a pretty side."

* * *

They came close to Miku one day. She could feel them. She could feel them being closer than normal all through her body. It was a warm, funny feeling, like after you'd just drank a big cup of hot cocoa and were still happy about it.

Miku was at the water when they came. The girl was there again but this time the lights that were the fairies were brighter than before, and more colorful, too. They were like stars, like decorations that went up around trees in the winter. She loved those because mommy and daddy would both take her to see them and they all would just sit and look at how pretty they were.

These lights were different. They were closer, closer than the girl in the pool water even was. They were past her and beneath the pool like fish rising up to the surface to greet her and take her into the fairy world they were from.

Miku wanted to meet them. She stared at the water and bent in lower. She had to come closer to the lights and join with them. She wanted them to finally take her to the place in the woods were the trees were home and the girl in the still water wouldn't go away when she touched her.

So she bent in lower and reached out her hand at the lights. And the lights were smiling at her and telling her to come in deeper and closer, and the girl in the still was reaching out for Miku and smiling the same smile she felt.

Only she stopped bending when she saw a new light. Pink light, light red like new roses. The pink light was a girl standing behind the girl in the still water, and her face was scared and sad. The kind of face you make when you wanted to say something but were afraid it would get you in trouble.

Suddenly, the other girl in the water mattered more than the lights.

Miku turned around, and there was the girl in front of her. She was so pretty, like a doll that was too expensive to get for her birthday, even though the girl was only wearing a plain white dress. Even when Miku stood up she was barely taller than her, and looked barely older than her.

But now that Miku had turned around and was looking at the real her, the girl was smiling. Smiling wide, her faint pink lips lighter than the light rose hair. A happier smile than Miku had ever seen before.

Miku asked her who she was, but the girl didn't speak. She told her who _she _was first, to be polite, but the girl still didn't speak.

And then there were words.

The girl didn't say them, though.

They were behind, then above, then all around. Like from the trees and the grass and even the sun streaming in through the branches. The lights were back from beneath the water and calling her again even though she wasn't coming back. Miku could feel them, smell them like she could smell the trees.

The smell was hot. The lights were angry.

The words they said were hard to understand, at first, because they were so loud and coming from everywhere and didn't even sound like speaking but more like bugs flying around and stormy winds and birds scared off from their trees. They hissed out smoke and fire and finally Miku could make out what they meant:

_May you only be known by the girl in the reflection, and may the girl know her reflection only by you_.

And the woods were quiet again. Quiet, with the pretty doll-like girl still standing in front of Miku.

She waited. They both did. Miku didn't know how long. She was too scared to know.

Until the other girl finally spoke, finally let herself be known once the angry lights were really gone.

"I'm Luka," the girl said. "I like that pool, too."

* * *

She'd started taking her bag with her wherever she went now. Just so long as it wouldn't be left alone, Miku figured, it would be fine. She knew they wouldn't take anything out of it if it was right in front of her, or at least around her.

It was hard to remember when that started feeling necessary, how long it'd taken. She could still remember the coming back itself, though, the finding all the pens from the bag gone and the papers torn up. Seeing that made her freeze over inside, unsure of what she could do about it. If it'd just been one person who'd done it, calling out someone innocent would've only made things worse.

But then, Miku thought, even if it was just one person, it meant nobody else had bothered to stop them.

That made her wonder if she'd have done anything about something like that, if the choice were up to her. Thinking that she would almost felt like flattery.

The heaviness in the air wasn't going away. Even when the lessons started and the borders would seem to dissolve, Miku could still feel that same kind of net over her, a trap tightly strung that she wasn't sure she was supposed to struggle out from. She found herself melting into just a point on the grid of desks, if only to let herself ignore what all the other points thought of her as.

_Thought of,_ not _knew_. None of the other points would gaze past the surface. But then again, Miku only knew the other points as their names, their vague labels. So she didn't know if there was a chance still to make the leap over to them, because all she knew of any of those foreign lands was the ways in which they kept themselves guarded.

At least there was quiet during the lessons, an absence of the buzzing so present elsewhere. Even when the soft snickering would come after she'd get called on and have to answer something, there was still a quiet of sorts. A calm before a storm was still a blessing, Miku thought.

It was odd how many guys she'd never met before had started talking to her by now, had started eying her the same way those others had by the lockers. All so possessive, lingering over Miku's surfaces as if they were covering her with a coat of plastic in their heads. It was all she could to apologize and rush back down the hall. She hoped they might just write her off as shy and give up, only some she'd see again.

The overconfidence, the arrogance of it all made Miku want to scream out inside. There wasn't room for any of them inside her, and they all refused to see it. Every time a nicer one, one showing a bit less smugness would try winning her over she'd find an image of a smiling Rin somewhere, in the corner of her eye, and the thought of staying would make her start to panic.

So even with the noise, all the nations forming themselves around her, Miku didn't feel safe being out of the classroom long, even when she could go. And even when she could go, she'd have to be sure to lug her bag along with her anyway, and there were always the looks that came with that.

She sometimes brought books along for times like these, only she could never find a way to really concentrate on them. Staring at her phone was easier, pretending she had something to do with it other than hope Rin was sneaking a moment to send a reply. Those were nice surprises. Miku was always anticipating the little letter icon on the screen, maybe the same way a dog always anticipated someone filling up its food dish.

Other times there was still the window, still the trees and gate and glimpse of skyline out of it. The view was an image Miku probably could have painted from memory if she were pressed into it. If she knew how to paint. She remembered someone from the class asking her what her hobbies were and not being able to say much more than "reading." People probably expected a more interesting answer than that.

The view itself grew duller and duller every time Miku got a glimpse of it, as if the landscape past the window was becoming less interested in its appearance as it'd gotten used to being watched. Leaves from the trees growing more and more murky in hue, the branches more and more barren. The gates still tall and grim and the skyline still dull and gray.

There was still the image of everything inside, too, faintly lingering over the glimpse of the dull outside. Miku could still make out what was going on behind her if she tried hard enough, could see whether there were any changes in the borders that day. That was never really on purpose. More a side effect of her trying to glimpse herself in that ghost of a reflection.

She could never seem to manage to see herself clearly in that window, for whatever reason. Always just a vague and faceless girl sitting at her point on the grid.

The bell chiming called Miku out of her staring at that girl, when she tried it towards the end of a lesson. She packed up her things, hurried out of the room, out of the building. Checked her phone again and felt another jot of hope sink as she found the letter icon absent.

Past the gates, though, she stopped herself. Luka was standing by the entrance, waiting patiently. Smiling. Even as all the other students shuffling by didn't offer her so much as a glance.

"I thought maybe you'd want to stop at the park on your way home," Luka said, once Miku came up to her. "It won't be autumn for much longer, after all."

Miku nodded, felt herself smiling some. They walked off together, quiet, but strangely comfortable with it. Maybe the most comfortable Miku had ever felt walking home from those towering gates.

Only she couldn't shake the wondering over whether anyone had seen her nodding at nothing back there, and couldn't stop musing over how anyone who saw her must still remember the sad, quiet girl who always made her trip home on her own.

* * *

Miku still went back to the woods, even after all that happened. It was thanks to Luka that she wasn't afraid. She told Miku that the lights wouldn't bother either of them anymore. She said she knew because she used to live with them. She told Miku she was once one of them.

They played around the water a lot, just like Miku did before. But now it was with a friend. Playing before with only the girl in the pool watching was really just pretend all along. She told Luka about how she used to do that and Luka said she thought it was just pretend too, because things that are in reflections aren't totally real. Only that wasn't something Miku was sure about. Even though the girl in the pool wasn't around and was just light thrown back at her she still felt like she wanted to meet her.

Miku didn't understand why it felt that way, but it just did.

They played and climbed on the small lawn near the light that hit the water all the time. It was still the best spot to play, because there were all the trees to climb on and it was a good deep part of the woods so you knew it would be just you two playing. Luka didn't like the sticky either so Miku taught her how to play the game where you jump over all the muck. But Luka didn't understand at first so first Miku had to teach her how to pretend all the sticky was actually quicksand.

When playing quicksand got boring they played hide-and-seek instead. At first Miku tried searching but Luka was too hard to find because she could hide inside trees. She asked how she went inside them like that, only Luka couldn't answer very well.

"It's like resting," she said. "You feel yourself turning into the woods, and everything goes quiet. And then if you want to sleep, it's like part of you is dreaming, and part of you can feel what everything else feels."

Miku wasn't sure she liked that. It sounded scary.

After that first time, Luka would seek and Miku would hide instead. Sometimes it took her a while to get found, because she was such a good hider, but really Luka was a better seeker than Miku so she would never actually get beaten.

But Miku didn't care. It was fun anyway. Luka had a weird way of making just being with her fun. She was a good kind of quiet, and always knew good things to say when Miku wanted to talk.

Except when Miku asked about the other tree spirits, or what life was like being one of them. Luka never wanted to talk about that.

Whenever it was time to go home she would go with Miku up near her house, right past the edge of the woods. At first Miku thought it was best to just let her go back to the trees, but when she invited Luka to have a sleepover instead she looked really happy, almost as happy as when she first saw her real face and not just her reflection.

And mommy even said it was okay, too. She was confused at first because she wasn't sure who Luka was, but once Miku explained everything she laughed and said she understood. And she really did, too, because she said herself that Luka was a "special friend," which was true because Luka really was a special friend.

That night they played together in Miku's room until they both got tired, and then Luka slept right by Miku's bed. She said it was okay to sleep there, even though it wasn't inside a tree.

Miku decided she would have Luka stay over more often then. So after that, she ended up staying over most every night.

Even though mommy and daddy didn't make food for Luka or couldn't even tell where she was, it was fine. Luka told Miku she didn't need the same food that Miku needed and didn't mind only playing with Miku. And Miku could tell she wasn't lying and wasn't just being too nice about things, too.

In the mornings when Miku would go to school Luka would say goodbye to her at the door and in the afternoon she'd be waiting for her at the bus stop when she came back. Sometimes Luka would sleep in Miku's room, but other times she'd say she felt really tired and would have to rest in the tree just outside the house. It didn't happen a lot, but after it did Luka would always seem more energetic in the mornings.

And every day they would always play in the woods. A lot of the time it was by the water, but not always. Luka showed Miku other fun parts to play in, too, and her showing them to Miku was like seeing the trees and green and water like she was part of that one little spot they'd found and she was seeing everything not only through her own eyes but through what the trees and green and water felt, too.

It was scary, even after she got used to it. But it was also kind of fun. Miku wasn't really sure why.

* * *

She hated the feeling that she had to move around herself once everyone else began rising from their seats, hated feeling like she would be making herself more visible, more open to them. They were getting more and more obnoxious, all those people suddenly coming up to her out of the blue. Miku couldn't stand it, couldn't fathom where the idea to do so was even coming from.

It couldn't be so hard to figure out to leave the dull and too-moody girl alone. Everyone who seemed remotely decent apparently wanted only that.

She knew other people noticed it all. No matter what she did, Miku always seemed to attract attention to herself out in the open, in the halls. Maybe it was her always lugging the bag around. Maybe people still found something unique, attractive in the surface of her. The cute face and slim body every other guy was so interested in mentioning. The legs and waist they were always murmuring over as she walked by.

And she was so tired of hearing about her own surface. She was so tired of thinking about that closest of borders between her and the rest of the outside, that part everyone saw and seemed to obsess over but never wanted to move past.

It was obvious word about it all was getting around. Miku could tell it was, could overhear them talk about herself. Talk of the constant rejections going around and the prideful transfer student behind them all. And how surely it would be all right if she already had a boyfriend or something, how it'd make sense then, but she'd barely even talked to anybody since she got here so who'd be dating someone like her anyhow, even if she's cute enough to have half the school drooling over her.

There was so much anger in the voices, so much resentment. As if they were making the whole thing their problem instead of just leaving it be, letting it all just fade like Miku wanted it to every time she said her apologies and ran off.

The picture out the window was still fading, though. Leaves colored in dull reds and browns gathering higher and higher in piles at the bottoms of the trees, the gate and surrounding concrete seeming to become harder, more solid as the air around them grew colder. And over that picture there were still those other nations constantly making up and breaking down their borders, only all of it with less movement than Miku remembered them having, less life. Still there was their noise and buzzing except now she found in the sound a kind of distance, as if it hadn't given up on following her about and swarming into her head but now had started speaking to itself in codes derived from its alien tongue.

And the girl who stared back at Miku from the surface of the window was growing a face of her own. Indistinct, still, but more visible. A round face and wide eyes, with something Miku couldn't wholly recognize lingering beneath the surface of her expression. Like she was looking into a well she couldn't see the bottom of.

She didn't like looking at that image for long. Something about it bothered her, the things it made her think about.

There were still the texts from Rin to keep her company. Only during the breaks, though, when there was the need to keep occupied. And Miku figured that even if she got a reply during class, the wait would make it all worthwhile anyhow. Something to look forward to checking, was all it was. Everyone needed something like that, when you thought about it.

Miku wondered more and more, out in the halls, what it would be like to never have to be seen again. To never have to worry about letting even the surface brush up against where all the rest of the world could see it, could scorn it for not matching up with what they thought they should be able to get from it.

And she thought more and more how it all seemed like part of some curse on her, from way back in the woods, that one day so blurred in recollection. And how she'd asked dad once about what a curse even was, after Luka had tried explaining things to her and only left her more confused. How the only curses with any true potency are the ones we place upon ourselves, and the others who don't touch you are as powerless as you let them seem but you can never really refuse them their full authority.

Maybe that was a curse, too, not totally understanding that. No matter how hard Miku tried.

It seemed all the less real as the days went on. Everything her father had ever said seemed further away, more and more faded and gray. Everything Rin had ever meant to her seemed more and more like another weight she was forced to hang on to.

That day, when Miku left the classroom, the world around her already seemed less and less real, like she'd stepped over into the ghost world of the image lingering over the window. The noise still following but only washing over her now, tuning it out as it flowed through her thoughts the way flood waters run through sand. There was something cloudy and gray in the sky she could see and feel even as she knew the ceiling and the fluorescent lights were hanging above her, even as she waded through the hurricane of students rushing out of the building to their own freedoms, and she a fallen leaf caught in the wind.

And the wind finally stopped when Miku got to the lockers, when she felt herself out of the crowds again, alone again. When she saw everything pasted over it.

Papers covered the locker's door. Different colors, different sizes. All of them messily pasted on, like shingles lying on the ground after a storm.

She could read things written on each one. Names, labels. Labels for her. The writing all sloppy, penned with hands shaking in delighted fury.

Names they all really thought of her as, that she'd been fearing they thought of her as all along.

Miku could only face a few of them before she had to turn away, before she had to throw open the door and hurry out. Someone else would brush them all off the locker before tomorrow. Someone who none of it meant anything to.

Hurrying past the gates now, alone, the walls and gray buildings staring up at the clouded skies. And as she ran the thoughts of how all she ever meant was nothing, was jealousy or rage or a thing to be ignored and left behind and forgotten.

Somewhere along the route Miku stopped to check her phone, found the little letter icon absent still. Absent again and again no matter how many times she'd put the phone away and take it back out. In the window of the store next to her stood a girl checking her phone with just as much obsession, just as much disappointment.

The raindrops started falling about then. Started slow and quickly built up. It wasn't until the building up, the thunder that Miku noticed the cold soaking into her uniform, dripping down her skirt. There was barely any disappointment when she found her bag didn't have its umbrella. Barely any frustration when she found herself walking into the shop to wait it all out, even as she heard the screams from deep inside echoing up at her, all so desperately asking for home.

She didn't know what they were asking for. She didn't know what "home" meant anymore.

Inside the shop Miku ordered a cup of tea and sat by the window, the quiet of the place somehow soothing. Over the window she could still see a ghostly picture of a girl staring at a blank phone with blank eyes.

* * *

Miku drew a picture of Luka at school one day. It was for presenting on the best things that had happened to them that year, so she made sure to draw Luka just as pretty as she actually was, which was hard because the only pink crayon they had there was too bright. When Miku presented about it the teacher was confused and most kids laughed. They thought she was weird already, but they still laughed at her then.

One girl who didn't laugh talked to Miku after presentations were over. She had short blonde hair and wore a big white ribbon on her head, and she asked about Luka and where Miku had found her and all sorts of other good questions.

She told Miku that her name was Rin. It was a lot of fun talking to her. So fun it made Miku feel sort of funny.

For some reason when Miku tried introducing Luka at the bus stop, Rin couldn't tell where Luka was, either, even though Miku was pointing right where she was and got Luka to say hello. It made Miku so sad she wanted to cry, but Luka did a good job of making her glad again after the bus took Rin and the other kids further down the road. Luka said it was okay that she couldn't play with Rin, and that she wouldn't be angry if Miku played with Rin without her there, either.

So Miku did her best to make time for both of them, even though it was hard to, because she was worried about Luka getting lonely, and Miku could tell that she did even though she would pretend not to be. It was hard to make time for both of them because Rin was really fun to be with, too. She would still make Miku feel funny, only it was a good kind of funny, like how when mommy tickles you it's fun but also kind of not fun because you can't move or anything.

Mommy and daddy were happy whenever Rin would come over or when Miku would go to Rin's. They said it was good that Miku was making friends, which she didn't like them saying because it ignored Luka, but it would have been too hard to argue with them.

She would try to keep Luka a part of things by telling her about being with Rin later. It was hard to tell if she liked that, but since she never told Miku to stop and never got mad she decided it was okay to talk about. Miku thought it was good that Luka was so calm like that. She'd seen other kids get jealous over silly things and was scared she might have to be around a friend who acted like that one day.

It worried Miku to think about those sorts of things, but it was still okay, because at least being with Rin or being with Luka was still fun. Only, she found herself thinking about Rin more and more. And there was still a funny feeling when she did.

She never really remembered the feeling, later on, because she never had to. It stayed in her, changed with how she changed and grew.

What it didn't change with was the world around her or with Rin herself.

* * *

It wasn't until late that the rain finally stopped.

Probably a couple hours, at least. Miku wasn't totally sure. She wasn't keeping track of the time, even though it was displayed right on the screen in front of her. It was long enough for her to have had to order a second cup of tea, but not long enough for Rin to send anything back.

The time passed in the shop like a lake freezing over. Something that spread slow and cold and then stood still, utterly still. Miku barely thought over anything as she sat there, barely moved from her seat. From time to time she took out notes or homework and glanced over it mechanically, went through the motions of filling it all out.

When she noticed it clearing up, she gathered up what little she had out and quietly left the place. The skies looked just as gray as before the rain had started falling. Still the buildings looming over her at every turn, the stones light now against the clouds. Still the noise and the waves of people swarming at her from every direction possible.

Somehow, she made her way back up to the apartment building, its windows downcast eyes of a giant insect that stared down at her. She found herself in the tiny elevator, going up, surrounded on all sides by a gloomy-looking girl in a damp school uniform, all staring back at her from past the thick walls of stainless steel.

Miku checked her phone again, found a little letter icon waiting for her. She felt her hands start to shake, tense with something deeper than the cold, the wet. The icon led to a reply from Rin.

_Sorry I took so long replying—my boyfriend took me out right after school, so I didn't get a chance to until just now._

Her eyes hurt, throbbed as she read through it over and over. She felt her grip on the phone die away, felt the thing almost slip out from her hand. The elevator's climb upward seemed to slow to a crawl, until she could only tell its direction from the way her stomach started knotting itself over and over.

She stared only at the message in front of her, its every pixel burning through her eyes, down into her throat. It was better than looking up. Better than seeing the pathetic, clingy, puffy-eyed girl who'd stare back at her from past the walls of stainless steel surrounding her so tight. The girl who'd have been turned down even if she'd told the truth back then, and was still clinging to the emptiest of hopes, never expecting change to come. The tears on the face of the girl reflected in the stainless steel felt warmer than her own. Her own were like ice, like the rain that had drenched through her skin.

The doors opened and Miku ran out. She didn't stop running until she found herself back in her room, huddled up on her bed like some frightened animal. No one to stop her, mom still at the office, like she said she'd be.

Almost out of instinct she felt her eyes move towards the armchair. Luka, sitting there. Staring at her, sea-colored eyes deep with fear, with want.

She was quiet, so quiet. Quiet like Miku couldn't believe her to be.

"You were waiting here, weren't you?" Miku finally heard herself ask. "All through the rain. For me."

"You sound so surprised," Luka said.

Miku felt herself agreeing with her. Couldn't figure out why she needed it pointed out.

"Miku, what's wrong?" Luka asked. Pleaded, leaned in from her seat. "Did something happen?"

She could sense herself resonate inside at that, at those exact words she could feel some part of herself had been so desperate to hear. Her whole body heaving inward with a single breath and then shaking so softly as she tried to breathe out again. And then all of it seeming so pointless, so unimportant in this giant, perfectly constructed grid full of others with no need for her, all of her quivering and stinging eyes just her own weakness. All of it her own clinging.

How badly she wanted it all to be that curse's fault. How badly she wanted something past a mirror to blame, to run to.

Her head shook from side to side. Miku heard herself say something.

"It's nothing. Just a bad day."

"Really?" Luka asked. Sadness rising in her voice.

"Yeah." Still the shaking deep inside, but something she wouldn't let out, wouldn't let become a dent in those borders of hers, all she had. "Just a bad day."

Luka didn't say anything. After a moment she came near the bed, sat on top of it beside the huddled up, tear-streaked girl. Slowly reached a hand toward Miku's head, only for another bit of sadness to flare up in her eyes as the girl rolled just past her reach.

The sadness in Luka's face stayed, even as she looked off, finally began to rest there with a familiar patience. A way of carrying herself Miku could remember seeing glimpses of when she'd find her at the bus stop, all those years and miles ago.

Still Miku hugged herself tight on top of the bed. Still she forced the words, the tears back down her throat.

She felt an image of water coming back to her. Still, peaceful, innocent.

And she wondered how much could ever be turned back to happiness.

"Just a bad day," she heard herself echo. "Just a bad day."

* * *

A/N: Once again, hats off to Genki Collective for her fine beta work throughout this story.

Expect the final chapter in another few days.


	3. Part III

The trees outside the window were bare by now and the buildings stood almost to block out the sun. Miku let the noise of the inside flow past her still, let it channel its way into her and buzz about with its taunting from afar. She was beyond any of it mattering to her, beyond any of it being anything more than a swarm of locusts that wanted to devour her every thought. Beyond the cold, hard gazes of everyone else being anything other than the most piercing of lights stabbing her in the throat.

All she could do in the face of any of it was to curl up in a ball and play dead. But she was beyond seeing any of it as ever being anything better.

Miku started out that day not wondering how to leave it all behind. It was down to how to get through all of it, how to survive against the taunting smiles and the glares that boasted of how clearly she'd been toppled. There was no moving past the noise or the net or the grid because by now they had all made their way inside Miku and were each thrashing about in her stomach, twisting her chest into new agonies with every snicker she heard, every head she saw turning away.

She started out that day never once considering how to get out of any of it. Only, the thought still came to her, from somewhere far past the window and its dying landscape, far past the here-and-now.

When the bell gave its chime and the grid deformed to start making its flow out of the school, Miku found herself walking with a newfound purpose. Still she buckled at the noise as it continued to seek her out, still she was mere foam being cast about by the sea around her, but now she felt a kind of surety. Felt something that had been so obvious all along. There was only herself to blame for not seeing it sooner.

She walked off more quickly once she passed the gates. Luka wasn't there, but it didn't matter, didn't surprise Miku any. Just one more person who knew to leave her behind.

And as she stepped into the faceless crowds and let them push her onwards, Miku could feel them again, calling from far away, a feeling that pierced through the smothering blanket of noise, through the buzzing neon and roars of combusting gasoline. She could feel them and their call alike, that same call from so many years ago.

The call that again made her think of home. A true home.

She made her way through the rivers of sweat and flesh into a train station, bought an express ticket. It wasn't as expensive as she'd feared. For a shinkansen there wasn't that much of a distance between here and that familiar past after all.

Waiting for the train to come Miku sat and watched the blur of crowds go by, let every detail, every trace of individuality they held become clouded together into an indistinct mass. It was them who were losing those details, not her, them who moved and brought about that loss. They let the world take every trace of color that was theirs and shake them all around until it turned a dull and sloppy mess of earth.

That was all dad had become by now: the same sloppy mess of earth. And Miku would, too. Was already becoming it.

That would change. The call, the feeling wanted her to change it.

She got on the train when it came, sat in a seat that nobody else approached. Out the window the station and the city began to shrink, quickly disappear as the trees started to rush by and blur together. The outstretched veins of the bare branches were like a shapeless cloud stretching futilely towards the sky.

Over the blurring forests Miku could see the ghost of an expressionless face staring back at her. Wide, blank eyes. Young, round face. There was something about it this time that kept her gaze caught. Something about its stillness against the rush of dull colors just past it. Like a premonition, a promise of the still and beauty to come.

And from time to time, Miku swore she could feel another face, another presence just past that translucent image. Only there was still nothing in the seat next to her, still no one around her. And she couldn't let herself drown in the hope that there ever would be.

The train pulled to a stop after enough of the blurred clouds of trees rushed by. Miku shoved her way through the line of people getting off, made her way out into the station and then onto the open roads still so familiar, still bursting forth with so many memories from their dull asphalt and dirt. Around her a few trees still clung to what few faded leaves they had left.

She walked along the roads by herself, trudged onward through the dying grasses that lined it. The wind swept against her face, her exposed legs, but still she ignored the cold, still she moved forward. There was no use in letting any of it bother her by now. She was here to rekindle an old spark in the first place, to rediscover the ancient flames that had pulled her in so long ago with their glimmerings of happiness and peace.

The girl would be there, and Miku would be able to reach out to her this time. She had to be able to. She could feel that it was the one place left for her to turn now.

Still the roads before her stretched on, dipped and curved. She could hear muffled noises behind her like footsteps, but every time she turned around she found nothing with her but the wind, the trees and their dimming vivacity.

Just how it was supposed to be.

In time Miku reached the stream, found it out from the familiar call of its waters. The trees towering over her made her feel smaller as she walked along the muddied banks, made her feel as if she was again able to see the world around her in its old splendor. She knew the woods were barren now, that the coming cold would only make them more lifeless, but here at least she could feel a kind of life instead of only the mountains of faceless concrete she'd left behind.

The woods grew darker as she followed the stream, blacker with the setting sun and the gnarled branches that blocked out the sky. None of it bothered her. She'd found it all alone, had traveled the way alone, would make it all worthwhile alone. The world wanted her to be alone, and so it would be alone that she would again discover the world she could immerse herself within.

Like before. Like it was supposed to be.

And further in, further in still. Miku followed and followed, at last came to the respite that the sound of the waters promised. The fading light poured into the clearing before her, down into the clear pool that lay in the center of the trees. What green she remembered was gone, browned and rusted away, patches of mud covering where there once grew grass. One of the few leaves left on the branches above gave way and fluttered down, sent ripples through the waters below.

Up to those waters Miku crept, slowly and quietly, as if all the eyes of the forest were on her. She could hear the stillness calling out to her still, could feel the familiar spark begging to be kindled again. She wouldn't refuse it. It was the only warmth she had left.

She came to the edge of the pool and felt herself start to peer in. Surrounded by a gray sky cracked open with the branches of barren trees, a girl was staring back at her.

A young, beautiful, wonderfully familiar girl.

Miku shook with a gust of frigid air from somewhere deep inside, and the girl shivered in kind. It wasn't the girl from the window, from the train. She knew when she saw her, when she gazed deep into her wide, mournful eyes, that it was someone she'd long forgotten, had long left behind. She knew it was the one person she could ever let herself trust, the only person she could ever let herself depend on.

It was the person she'd neglected, these long months Miku had spent nursing her old wounds. The person she'd forgotten that she could still try to reach out to.

Slowly, Miku felt her arm outstretch itself, felt her hand open towards the pool as her fingers came against the water's frigid surface. And the girl in the water was reaching out, too. Smiling the same wide smile as Miku felt spread across her own face as she realized the pool stayed still under her touch.

Closer. Further and further she reached her arm out, leaning in closer and closer still. The surface of the water shimmered in the fading daylight and the girl just past that border was still staring with wide, friendly eyes. All Miku had to do was cross that boundary and she would again know peace. Even if she couldn't connect before, know she was certain she could.

The frigid water passed through her fingers, down her hands, from her arms into her shoulders. She could feel her own weight relinquishing itself as she melted into the mirrored surface, as she dove to embrace the still, fair, peaceful image. And against that perfect, smiling face she let the freezing cold pierce her skin and circulate through her being.

A sharp sound, then silence, ringing loud in her ears. Before her eyes the image had rippled away into nothing, had morphed into a dark, endless fog of blue as she felt the cold of the surface envelop her. She felt her arms thrash futilely about as the weight of the waters shackled her limbs, all sense of motion. Above spots of light peered down, then left her with only the remnants of twilight that still could penetrate the border.

And enveloping Miku with the cold and the weight there came the fog, the deepening darkness from beneath the water's surface, all nets cast about her that made her stop the thrashing and the clinging to breath. She felt her head tilt upward towards the image that had betrayed her, the connection so quick to disappear. The light that had formed that illusion fading still, still fading as she felt herself grow heavy and drift deeper into the dark depths of herself.

She didn't care. She was only an island, flooded over and then forgotten. The cold came at her throat, strangling out her breath, and she embraced it.

It was all she had left.

Until warmth, suddenly growing out of the darkness. Hands, arms, tight against her body, pulling her upward, climbing with her. She could feel something resurging in herself, something relit as the light brightened and the surface broke again, the air rushing back into her lungs.

And the arms pulled her back onto the fading grass by the pool, back beneath the barren trees. Tears in the sea-blue eyes. Someone real staring back at her now, someone real holding her.

"How could you?"

The voice brought another tightening into Miku's throat, its familiar tone, its trembling. More hurt than she had ever remembered seeing in the eyes gazing back at her from the window, altogether terrified and grateful.

"How could you, Miku? It couldn't have gotten that bad. I promise you, I would _never _let it ever get that bad."

She could feel Luka's arms wrap tighter around her, feel them shake with fear, with cold.

"I promise you. No matter what happens, I won't let you go down a path like this. I want to be there for you, always. Can't you see that?"

And the confusion rising up in her as she let the sensations of it all soak in, as she realized she truly _was _back above the surface of the water, that someone had saved her, had _wanted _her saved.

"I don't get it," Miku said. "You came back for me. You were here."

She saw the tears grow heavier in the sea-colored eyes, felt her own throat, her own chest tighten as the feeling was reflected back and forth between them.

"Of course I did," Luka said, murmured through a choked voice. "And I always will be. Can't you see that? I always have been."

A kind of weight, something heavier than the tightness, started growing itself inside Miku's throat, something deep and dark as she took in the words. Something that left her only wanting to hear.

"I knew something was wrong today," Luka went on. Her voice was clearer, firmer now. "I was at the gates, except, you didn't see me. And, I realized it was that you _couldn't _see me. I'm not sure why, but up until just now, I guess you were like everyone else. It was as if the others, the ones I left...as if they got ahold of you again. A deeper hold." Then the words coming slower, quivering again. "But you're safe now. And that's all that matters, Miku. Can't you see? I'm here now, and I'll make sure you're safe."

The weight grew heavier, tighter. She felt the words fly out from her own throat like wasps.

"Because I'm the only one you have anymore," Miku said. "That's it, isn't it? The only reason you came for me. Why you followed me here."

And then, a softer noise from the nymph, chiming that sprang through the fading woods. Laughter. Laughing slow and quiet as she pulled Miku in closer.

"You don't see, do you?" she whispered. "That's not it at all, Miku. It's not that you're the one person I have. It's that you're the one person I _want_."

Still the forest was faded, unmoving, but all of a sudden Miku felt as if she could see every bit of vibrant green pulsing joyously throughout those woods, like she could feel all the songs sung in the treetops at once by the birds announcing their farewells. The water clinging to her skin, her clothes, seemed warmer somehow. And in her chest she still felt the weight, the tightening, only there was no constraint to any of it.

"I never told you, did I?" Luka went on. "All those years ago, Miku, I broke the rules of the wood spirits by warning you of what they were going to do. They told me I must never speak to you, and just trying to meet you, even to save your life from them...they wouldn't forgive that. Even back then I knew they wouldn't." She swallowed, hard. Miku could feel the tremors in the nymph's chest pulsing against her own. "But I didn't care, Miku. I still don't. If I had to do it again, I wouldn't change a thing. Because, from the moment I saw you...I knew I loved you."

Quiet a moment, the warmth leaving silence. "Loved me?" Miku repeated. The words felt alien even out of her own mouth, the shape of them something unfamiliarly beautiful. "From the beginning, you...felt that way? About me?"

"I did," Luka whispered, cooed into Miku's ear like the soft murmuring of rivers. "And I don't care if you don't feel the same way. I never did. Being your friend, being _with _you was enough. And that's why I want to be there for you, want you to be here. Always."

Another bit of warmth, a splash of it, spread its way to Miku's eyes, began to roll past her cheeks. She felt her own arms start to wrap around Luka, felt herself cling closer to her. Closer to the feeling so strangely familiar now that she was again embracing it.

"I don't get it," Miku said. Her throat was clenched like her body against the nymph's, her voice choking her. "Why me? I was never there for you. I was always ignoring you. Why would you want me?"

She could feel Luka's smile now, somehow, even if she couldn't see it. "Don't be silly. You were always the one who recognized me, Miku, better than anyone else I'd ever known did. I think I knew you would, right when I first saw that beautiful young girl so happily playing in the woods." And she pulled away away from her, barely, just enough so that she was gazing into her eyes. "You're still that important to me. That's why I'm here with you now, Miku. That's why I always want to be."

There was something glimmering in her eyes that Miku noticed, then, something deeper, fainter than she ever remembered seeing before. Only something glowing with a quiet strength she found herself drawn to, realized she had always in a way found herself drawn to.

Because in that gaze of Luka's, Miku more than just recognized, more than just _saw_. There was more to dive in and far more to swim through than only the feelings Luka's eyes reflected back at her, and she no longer felt herself struggling in those waters.

What breath she needed, the nymph was giving her with that gaze, that tranquil smile alone. And as the stillness of it all offered its hand to Miku, she realized she could only embrace that piece of the world just outside her borders.

It wasn't that she owed it, the reaching out. It was that she wanted to again embrace the beauty that lay past herself.

So Miku returned the smile. Stared deep into the sea-colored eyes, found herself lost in the almost nostalgic feeling of the color.

"I always want to be, too," she murmured. "And I'm so sorry, Luka. I'm so sorry I didn't realize that until now."

The distance between them disappeared, broken as Miku pulled herself close, brought her lips against Luka's, music echoing inside as the truth of the soft feeling spread through her skin. And the ripples cast from the feeling left the image of the smiling nymph still intact, dissipating the faceless ones who lay just past the girl in the water.

Miku's cheeks glimmered with new tears, warmer as they mingled with Luka's soft pink hair. And there was no need to long after her, never had been. She had been there past the depths inside as far as memory of the feeling stretched back.

"I love you, Luka," Miku said. "Thank you. For coming back for me. For always coming back for me."

And in every tear, every embrace of the feeling and its waters, Miku felt she understood the curse, every curse. She recognized it in herself and past every point in the forest. Past the murmuring of the pool, and past the waning sunlight, where there lay the parts of the world she was sure too were beautiful.

* * *

She found the book in her bag once the break period started, contemplated reading it but didn't quite begin yet. There was the swarm of noise starting up again, finding its way to wash through Miku, and she needed a moment to find her point of focus in that storm.

Still they would be soon breaking up the usual grid to form their new series of borders, would be setting up their own walls again. Miku couldn't change that, only she didn't feel the need to. Let them be. It was always a difficult thing to loosen the guard around one's own fortress. Miku understood that deeply. Wasn't quite there yet herself, really.

But there were certain harmonies to how all the noises flowed—maybe there always had been, even if Miku hadn't noticed herself. And even if so much of it were still harmonies she couldn't bring herself to appreciate, at least they were consciously made, products of their own sort of bonding and interest and not just the simple product of the Earth turning. Even if beautiful life was still so rare, at least there was life in some form around her.

She glanced over at some of the ones who hadn't moved, ones just like her. There was still the girl with the short-cut green hair on the other side of the room who seemed the quiet type, who had the same impulse to reach for a book once the chattering started. Miku decided she'd try talking to her today again, sometime when she looked done with the book anyway. She remembered again the way they'd made each other laugh last time going over all the authors they had in common and saw no real reason why that couldn't happen again.

The girl had a friendly smile, one she'd put up even when she was just in that island of her own. A smile that brought Miku back to thoughts of crayons and eyes glimmering with interest. She wondered for a moment why that smile had been so hard to see, before.

A flicker of sunlight past the window, shining down from above the gray and dull trees and gates and skyline, caught hold of her own eyes. Light still shining so as the winter approached, as the little life in the enormous grid of concrete and asphalt grew cold and started to fade. Miku had finally needed a heavier coat that morning, though she noticed the girl on the other side of the classroom had made do in just her uniform. She wondered when she would start bundling herself up, how many of the others were doing so now.

Over the graying landscape Miku could see all those others faintly carrying on among themselves. She could feel their noise washing over her still even as she looked at the ghost of an imitation, all of it their own and something she had no real interest in carrying off with. It was easy to tell which of it was from the ones not worth thinking about, and she wouldn't give them the courtesy of her interest. And even they were paying her glances every now and then, now that the others were saying a morning greeting or two.

Maybe it really had been just a matter of time. Maybe a matter of seeing. Either way Miku found the matter worth letting go of.

Over that image of the crowds behind her, Miku could see that fainter imprint of herself, staring back with that slightest of smiles in her eyes. It was a smile that only grew stronger as the thoughts of the other woman's hand on her shoulder and her head leaning against her own came to light upon that indistinct reflection. Like a voice calling back to her when no one else was near.

Luka gazed back from that image over the window with a stare that was filled with dreams. A smile that Miku had seen before, had herself smiled as she shared those dreams not of herself but of another. With a kind of hope in her eyes, and a sense of being wide as the sea whose blue those eyes carried.

And on her lips Miku found again the words she never truly read, but always felt in her very core:

_We know each other, and that is more than any curse can break._

Feeling the smile one last time, Miku turned back to her book, but thought better of it and put it away. Instead, with the encouragement of Luka's smile at her back, she rose from her desk and went to ask the green-haired girl what book she was reading.

* * *

A/N: And, one final great big "thank you" to Genki Collective for her beta work on this story.

But of course, thanks to all of you for reading! This is, to me, a very difficult work to tell and in many ways a story with deep personal significance, so all of your support truly means a lot to me.

Rest assured that more's in the works!


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